


Lovebites

by Probi



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Cannibalism, Hurt No Comfort, Love/Hate, M/M, Mental Breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28853508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Probi/pseuds/Probi
Summary: Everything Quackity used to care for is gone and now he can’t cope.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt
Kudos: 45





	Lovebites

**Author's Note:**

> Typical warning: This is about the characters within the Dream SMP, not the actual content creators and should be treated as such, do not ship these actual creators nor share this work with them.

Air felt heavy upon his skin, a thick blanket slowing even the faintest of movements, despite the scarcity at which they came, for it was all the same to something that could not think the way Quackity did.

As despite the way such bitter chill wrapped itself around his figure, the only comfort the boy received was the presence of his own entirety curling in on itself, subconscious in the way it rocked against the breeze, so very still and yet remarkable in the way he shook; elongated breathes turned shallow as oxygen froze over.

It was almost stunning, the way his skin had turned glossy, practically shimmering as all remaining color drained to nothing more than a mere memory — a fraction of the warmth that once was, despite the waves of heat that dripped steadily from between lax fingertips and onto the paving bellow, muted steel dyed florescent scarlet as the clouds continued to roll steadily by.

Everything just seemed so stagnant in his mind, so entirely static in the way all he once knew blurred together, a faraway fantasy tucked into the deepest crevices of his mind without so much as a question as to why. For why would he question it? Questions were meaningless when he held nothing but the hard truth in his hands, almost defensive in the way he shielded it beneath his jacket, the sleeves of which tussled recklessly behind him, stoic in spite of the way his hairs stood on end.

It didn’t matter, nothing did, nothing except the way Quackity swore he saw the thing move- swore he felt something pulsate between twitching fingers as he slowly raised the object of desire to eye level, ignorant to the trails of red that now painted his skin as he simply continued to observe the sight laid out before him.

Schlatt’s heart was helpless, Quackity’s for the taking as rounded nails bled into the surface of it slightly, heavy-lidded eyes flicking here and there all the while, waiting for some kind of response as the husk of a grin lay dead on rosy lips.

He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe Schlatt was simply allowing his secretary to toy with him in such a way- to dig into the very place many rumored to have long since disappeared, all the while no word of protest came to interrupt nor scold him: If Quackity didn’t know better, it was almost as if Schlatt didn’t care if he was revealing himself in such away. Almost like the ram didn’t care he was on full display to his inferior.

Such a thought set skin aflame despite it all as weak laughter trickled out from between tight lips, “What, cat got your tongue or something? Speak up man, I’m trying my best here.” Quackity’s tone was airily light as his pinky wedged itself under the rim of his beanie, carefully tugging it up in order to reveal the shell of his ear as the heart drew impossibly closer, almost grazing the skin residing there as the boy attempted to listen in.

“Hello, hello? Anybody home?” Yet no matter how long Quackity sat in wait, no response seemed to deliver itself in return to his silent pleas.

It was expected, of course it was, but that never failed to stop the man from awaiting some fated sign with bated breath, muscles tense as he shifted in his seat for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening, silently begging for someone to respond to his call and doing his damned hardest to ignore the dull ache creeping up his back. It didn’t matter remember? Focus for once Quackity.

“I said is ‘anyone in there?’” Upturned lips wavered, the corners of which twitching as Quackity’s grip tightened, unabashed to the pop of nails breaking through the outer layer of muscle and unfazed by the scent that swiftly followed, metallic and almost.. Smokey. As though part of it had been lightly grilled beforehand- when taking into account the ashen stains that coated the heart’s underside, such a theory wouldn’t have been seen as too far-fetched in actuality.

Well, if Quackity didn’t know any better that was.

“This is because you didn’t listen to me, isn’t it? Huh Schlatt? This is because you never knew when to quit, right?” Quackity quizzed, dragging the remains back into his line of sight so as to properly interrogate the elder man, uncaring now as his cheerful facade fell to naught. Schlatt never did care for liars after all.

“You never listened to anyone: not Ponk, not Niki, not Fundy- not even me, and I’m the one who fucking put you in charge! You think you could have done that yourself?” His face ached, lips fallen slack on flushed cheeks as the boy’s entirety pulled taught, finally reeling from the aftershock of it all. “We were meant to be a team, remember? That’s what we agreed on, that was the whole point of our deal. But guess who decided to throw that all away?”

Harsh promises and broken threatens stumbled into the back of Quackity’s throat, threatening to escape as weeks of quiet brooding finally spilled over and into the waking world, promising to pull his sorrows apart as scarlet ribbons only continued to spill further and further down shaking arms, sped up only by the increasing pressure weighing down on Schlatt’s heart. “You took everything from me! My money, my time, my pride, my patience- god damn it, you even took my fucking heart man.”

And in the span of the time it took for Quackity to comprehend what had just forced itself out of his throat, the bitter awareness that something like that could never be taken back came all the quicker.

“No, but that- you couldn’t have- No.” Automatically the grip on Schlatt’s heart became weak as Quackity’s gaze darted towards the backs of his hand, widening slightly at the amount of blood drying on his skin, yet that wasn’t where focus of the man’s attention went. No, it was to the small ridge protruding from beneath it all that concerned him the most.

“I didn’t mean it, I- I swear,” Yet that didn’t stop the ravenette from drifting his free hand towards the dip, hesitating slightly as it grazed over the metal there, gently thumbing away any residue. “I hate you, Schlatt, I hate you so fucking much.”

It was a ring. Shiny and golden, reflecting the torment in Quackity’s eyes as the man swallowed down the fear seizing his lungs, choking him from the inside out as the boy helplessly spluttered, unable to look away even as every nerve in his body called for him to drop the heart and run; run and leave this behind- leave everything behind. Leave Schlatt behind.

Quackity tried, he really did, he tried and tried one hundred times over, and yet for some reason, his legs never seemed to work, his muscles frozen in time and unyielding to something as weak as Quackity’s pathetic blubbering. “I just want to leave you, damn it.” His voice shook with such trepidation the man had never known, wavering as heavy eyes fogged over, stinging all the while an unfamiliar heat rolled down flustered cheeks, pitiful in the way it tainted the skin there.

“Please just- make me stop coming back man, I can’t handle it anymore,” A distant part of him warned the boy to muffle his voice, to cover his eyes, and lay down low so that no one could see the way his face contorted in such a grotesque expression, wide-eyed and red as the wind whipped crumpled clothing, infusing his fluids with that which poured down his body, corrupting all that barred its path.

Yet no matter how loudly that voice screamed, it took no priority in Quackity’s mind, all it’s insistence being stomped out by the overwhelming disgust for how feeble the man had allowed himself to become under Schlatt’s absence, how pitiful he felt simply gazing at his own reflection on the back of his ring, blurred beyond recognition and completely separate from any semblance from his past self.

Quackity had lost everything that made him, him, and he couldn’t stand it. “I can’t be me without you, Schlatt. And it’s making me lose my mind.” Dejected laughter fell into the open air as the reality of it all came to light at last, meaningless and hollow as the despair of the situation finally sunk in, twisting at Quackity’s heart until something akin to bile rose to the backs of his tongue, urging to break free.

Quackity had lost apart of himself when Schlatt died, and now he couldn’t function without him; couldn’t function without his other half bossing him around with that condescending tone of his, couldn’t function without that infuriating smirk that seemed to be glued to his face when the boy ran around after the other. While he was left to pick up the pieces behind Schlatt because the other simply wanted to watch with that half-assed encouragement of his and continue to sip away on that damn bottle that seemed to never leave his side.

“That fucking bottle meant more to you than I ever did, huh?” Schlatt couldn’t survive without his alcohol, and Quackity couldn’t survive without him.

And that’s when he realized something. Since when did Quackity have to function without Schlatt at all? Since when did he have to carry on like nothing ever happened and leave it all behind? Simple answer: he didn’t need to. Not when he has his Schlatt right here, bawled up hands pressing the man tightly against his chest.

If the first bite was Devine, the second was pure heaven.

He didn’t know what compelled him to do it, he really didn’t, but as his teeth tore into the other’s flesh and peeled away the muscle found there, he found he had become addicted to the taste left pungent painted lips, intoxicated by the sweet fragrance that enveloped his senses as liquid love splattered down his face, marking the skin found there in a red so deep Quackity could have sworn he found himself sinking into it.

In a matter of moments, one bite becomes two, two bites became three, and three bites became several more as he ravaged the muscle, picking apart every inch of meat found there as he chewed over and over until finally- Schlatt was gone. Every last trace that the man had ever graced the Earth was now dripping down trembling skin as Quackity sat there, dazed as glassy eyes zoned in on the way his hands twitched, unused to being so void of touch and unable to wonder as to why as the world gained clarity in such a rapid rate.

The sky, once empty was now a pale reflection of the ground bellow as white droplets cascaded down from above, dusting the floor bellow in a sweet sugar yet melting upon gracing Quackity’s touch, a bitter chill being founded instead as warmth as he knew it washed away along with bitter tears. “Huh?”

Why was he crying? Quackity was finally full again, right? so then why did he feel so sick?

It was dizzying, the way newfound nausea churned away at his insides, tearing apart his very core in retaliation to the onslaught of pain that racked Quackity’s figure and bent him double in an attempt to keep his insides from purging itself onto the ground below. “Wha’s happening to me?” The man’s voice slurred together as one of his hands clasped over his mouth, trying to force itself down his throat and rid him of the torment brewing from deep inside. But Quackity wouldn’t let it.

“Nonono- Stay in God damn it!” His free hand gripped painfully on the invading wrist in an attempt to bring it back down and put an end to such an attack, wincing slightly at the way his knuckles turned white under pressure but continuing regardless. “You can’t leave yet pal, I only just got you back! So stay in you fucking asshole- for me- Please!”

Yet still, the boy fought in a desperate game of back and forth as wayward limbs rebelled against one another, tugging back and forth with little abandon. “I only just got you back! Stay with me- just for a bit longer- I’ll- I'll-“

Quackity’s words stumbled over one another as they tumbled recklessly out from between salty lips, any coherency behind them lost to the storm brewing in the back of his mind, clouding any sense of reason as adrenaline coursed through his veins. “I’ll bring you back, I swear. Then we can be together again, and- and you can take back Manburg again- just stop trying to leave me man!”

Almost instantaneously, his muscles un-tensed, arms falling limply to the boys sides and leaving their owner to hack up his lungs behind a heaving chest, swallowing down any bile that rose up and writhing at the burning sensation that rubbed his insides raw.

Deep breathes Quackity, deep breathes. Tender fingertips gripped his jaw with a startling amount of strength when considering how frail his body felt, and Quackity felt helpless to himself as his hand roughly wiped away some stray spittle trailing down blemished skin. “W-what’s going on? Schlatt? That you?”

Pitch rose as his grip tightened for a moment, fingertips digging crudely into exposed flesh, so strongly in fact they left small indents behind, a warning of sorts before a stray thumb gently panned across Quackity’s cheek, ridding the numb sensation found there. “Schlatt.. I knew it was you,” The younger couldn’t help leaning into the embrace, eyes fluttering to a close on impulse as a familiar feeling washed over him, forcing his lips up into a relieved sigh. 

“I still hate you, you know that right?”

Still the petting continued, softer and softer despite the way his ring finger dug painfully into his indented cheek, almost deliberate in the way it centred the attention there, stroking across the newfound cut with no hesitation in regards to the way such a minuscule thing advanced into the beginnings of a sore.

It must have looked strange really; the sight of Quackity leaning so lovingly into the palm of his own hand, blissfully unaware to the way blushing snow now coated his hair and built around the rim of bloodied shoes — but still, Quackity remained firm on his ideology. Nothing else mattered anymore, so why care? “Nothing except bringing you back.. Right babe?”

The bittersweet throb that now echoed through his left cheek was all that Quackity needed in response.


End file.
